


Starstruck

by MidyearFlowers



Category: The Dragon Prince (Cartoon)
Genre: Don’t copy to another site, Hurt/Comfort, Other, mage apprentice!reader, reader's gender is ambiguous
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-16
Updated: 2019-03-16
Packaged: 2019-11-19 08:10:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,045
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18133154
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MidyearFlowers/pseuds/MidyearFlowers
Summary: Difficulty casting a simple fire spell leads to unexpected circumstances.





	Starstruck

**Author's Note:**

> Well this was a first. I've never written fanfiction before but I'm actually sort of proud of this one. I like how it came out. I woke up the other night and couldn’t get back to sleep so at 4am I randomly get this idea for a fanfic that my brain was actually figuring out how to put into words. It’s a 100% self indulgent reader insert fic cause I’m a thirsty bitch who can’t seem to stop thinking about this stuff.
> 
> The spell word I used isn’t actually draconic from the show's universe, it’s just a mishmash of words from the Thu’um of Skyrim. (the only dragon language I’m familiar with) It translates literally into “fire light”. Please enjoy and let me know what you think!

The grandfather clock ticks softly in the corner of the study as you try the spell again. With one hand open towards the ceiling and the other aloft to form the rune, you shift your feet into the proper stance. On the other side of the room stands Aaravos, archmage master of all six primal sources and your current mentor. He regards you quietly with hands clasped casually in front of him.

The pressure of having your every attempt being carefully observed makes it harder to focus. You can see him in the corner of your vision and feel his eyes following your hand as you trace out the rune.

“ _Yolkun!_ ”

Tiny embers begin to flicker into existence but ultimately fizzle out. Once again you failed to produce the expected ball of flames. Whether it was because your pronunciation was off or the rune was wrong you couldn’t tell but it was starting to frustrate you. You huff through your nose and drop your arms.

“Do it again.”

You resist the urge to groan audibly and throw a side glare in Aaravos’ direction but hope he doesn’t notice. You’d been at this for two hours now, if it hadn’t worked yet you doubt it would at all. Not to mention he hadn’t provided any feedback at all, just silently watched. Begrudgingly resuming your previous position, you again trace the rune and speak the draconic word.

The embers were brighter this time but still would not remain or grow. You feel a wave of annoyance wash over you, clenching your fists and this time allowing the growl out of your throat. You hear footsteps approaching you and look up to see Aaravos walking to stand behind you.

“Here, allow me to assist you.” he says, his voice suddenly right in your ear.

You feel him brush up against your back as one hand moves down the arm you were using to draw the rune. Your heart skips a beat when he takes your hand in his and moves it in the familiar motion and you almost forget to cast the spell itself.

“ _Yolkun!_ ”

The embers return but this time they continue to spark into your hand until a ball of fire has gathered and is crackling heartily. You gasp happily as you stare at your creation, momentarily forgetting that Aaravos is behind you until you hear him chuckle. Startled and suddenly very aware of how _close_ he is, you jolt your hands towards your chest but forget to release the flame.

You cry out as you feel a searing pain blooming on your palm as your fingers close around the fire, trying to extinguish it but failing. You try to shake it off but it continues to burn into your skin and you begin to panic. Suddenly, Aaravos is in front of you, eyes and stars aglow as he grabs your wrist to stop your flailing and allow him to call the flame to his own hand and disperse it properly.

With the scene finally over the room falls silent again save for the clock and your soft whimpers as you hold your hand close to examine it. The damage isn’t too horrible and should heal eventually but even the feeling of the air on your skin causes you to wince.

A star-speckled hand takes a gentle hold of your wrist and Aaravos pulls you towards a small cabinet where he pulls out some bandages.

“Are you alright?” he asks, his voice laced with concern. You want to tell him that no, you are not alright, and that this wouldn’t have happened if he hadn’t stood pressed up against you acting smug. But you hold your tongue and look away as he tends to your wounded hand.

He had stood to the side all morning simply observing your attempts, offering no help or advice whatsoever and casting an ever-present aura of judgment that was hard to ignore. Why did he suddenly want to do some hands-on teaching? You feel the wave of annoyance return, your mouth pulling down into a frown.

He finishes wrapping your hand but doesn’t let go, holding it between both of his. You yank it out of his grasp and to your chest while still turned away but you do glance at his face. He looks surprised and a little offended which causes your annoyance to peak.

“What is up with you, huh? First you act all stoic and judgmental, being really hard on me and making me practice for hours. Then when you finally offer some assistance you start _flirting_ with me, breaking my concentration and causing me to _hurt_ myself,” You clutch at your injured hand and feel tears start to form in your eyes.

“And now you’re all concerned and doting as if I’m some child who made a silly mistake. Why don’t you just tell me how you feel? If you really don’t want to teach me just say so, I’ll go find someone else.”

You begin to shake but try to hide it. Aaravos still looks shocked but his expression seems to have softened somewhat. One of his hands moves as if to reach for you but pauses midair. You square your shoulders and look him right in the eyes.

“Stop playing games with me. I am not a toy.” You hope your tone is a biting one but know he probably heard the tremor in your voice. You turn and storm out of the study, hastily making your way back to your chambers to be alone. You don’t slow down even as you reach the large oak door.

Flinging the door open and then closed again but lacking the strength to truly slam it, you come to a pause in the middle of your room, breathing heavily and trying not to cry.

You briefly consider ducking under the bed covers but decide to sit on top of your desk, one leg tucked under the other dangling off the edge. Leaning against the wall, the tears refused to be held any longer.

“Why does he have to be like that? And why does it even bother me so much?” You clutch your injured hand to your chest and take a deep shuttering breath. A soft knock comes from the slightly ajar door and you glare at it. He’s probably come to scold you for lashing out and yelling at him.

“May I come in?” Aaravos asks, waiting a moment before gently pushing the door open. You turn as much as you can away from him as he slowly makes his way to stand in front of you. The fatigue from crying has you not wanting to argue and hoping that he leaves soon.

The room is silent as he stands before you, likely waiting for you to face him. But you were still too upset to do so, and remained turned away. He sighs softly and you clench your unbandaged fist.

“I wanted to apologize.”

You freeze, eyes widening. What? _He_ wants to apologize to _you_? You remain silent and he continues.

“I realize now that I’ve been unduly harsh to you. It was not my intention to upset or hurt you, yet I did.”

You couldn’t believe your ears, but felt your anger subsiding anyway. You slowly turn to face him finally and see him looking down and to the side as if ashamed, an expression of genuine guilt on his face. When he looks back up at you, your eyes meet and any residual negative feelings fade away.

“I’m sorry.”

You mouth opens to say something but no words come out. You have no idea what to do. Never has the proud Aaravos admitted to being or doing something wrong. Yet he stands in front of _you_ , a mere apprentice, and by all accounts seems to regret his actions and their result. So much so that he is apologizing.

Having said what he wanted to say and believing you will not respond Aaravos turns to leave. Your mind finally catches up having processed the situation so you try to speak again.

“Thank you,” you say quickly and he stops, back facing you. “Um. For apologizing. I… It’s appreciated.”

He turns his head towards you slightly, eyes cast down as if in thought. He closes them briefly, and you tilt your head in curiosity.

“You said earlier that I should just ‘tell you how I feel’. May I… show you, instead?”

He turns around and all emotion is gone from his face. He meets your eyes again and waits, but the hesitation in his voice was not missed. You wonder what he could mean by “show you”, your traitorous stomach conjuring butterflies. Not trusting your words again, you simply nod.

He moves slowly back to where he was standing before, but comes closer this time. He stops just short of brushing against your tucked in leg, faces mere inches apart. You feel heat creeping up to your cheeks and sit up straight, hoping that will distract from any signs that appear on your skin.

Aaravos raises one of his hands, trailing the backs of his fingers down your cheek and a shiver rushes down your spine. The same hand then cups your face and his thumb idly brushes past your eye, wiping away any lingering tears.

He meets your gaze and smiles softly at you, a sight so rare your stomach is fluttering all over again. Then, after a moment, he leans in and gently presses his lips to yours.

If your brain was having trouble processing the apology, it was surely dying now. All thoughts and movement ceased as you realized that Aaravos was indeed kissing you, and this was apparently to show how he felt.

The kiss ended when the need for air forced him to pull away but he remained close, nose bumping slightly with yours. He didn’t move again save for his thumb resuming its earlier motions, waiting for your response.

You take a deep breath, trying to clear your swimming head but his scent of firewood and old books prevented this. You began to wonder; how long has he wanted to do this?

How long have _you_ wanted to do this?

Throwing caution to the wind, you move your hands to clasp onto the collar of his cloak and anchor him to you as you close the gap between your lips once more. You feel his hand move from your face to join his other in wrapping around you.

Tilting your head to deepen the kiss quickly turns the situation into a heated one. His arms around your back pull you flush against his chest and you feel him nip gently at your bottom lip. You give in completely, melting in his arms and letting him guide you along.

You eventually pull away, panting quietly and admiring the fabric under your hands. Aaravos, seemingly not as winded as you, continues. He presses soft, lingering kisses to your cheek and jaw, slowly making his way towards your neck.

Your breath hitches in your throat when he gets there, the kisses becoming harder and lasting longer. He moves along the curve of your neck and out towards your shoulder that became slightly revealed during your previous movements. On the way back he merely trails his lips over your skin, causing more shivers. One last kiss to your lips and he leans back to meet your half-lidded eyes.

“You’re looking a little _starstruck_ , my dear.” he chuckles, smirking at you. The return of his smugness would normally have you rolling your eyes, had you not caught something.

Though Aaravos was trying to hide it, you could see the glint of pure adoration in his eyes. You never thought you would see something like that, especially not aimed at you. Your heart fluttered at the thought.

You pull him closer so you can lean down and press your lips to the star on his chest. You hear and feel his sharp intake of breath, and when you look back at his face, _he_ is the one looking starstruck. The diamonds under his now wide eyes glow faintly; you assume it’s his form of blushing. You smile warmly.

“I wouldn’t want to be any other way.”


End file.
